


crash

by likeanchors



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeanchors/pseuds/likeanchors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fuck like they fight; furiously and frequently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crash

**Author's Note:**

> Very much inspired by a line of poetry from Richard Siken's 'Love from a Distance', "We were trying to sell our loneliness,and no one was buying."

They fuck like they fight; furiously and frequently.

It was an accident. The first time. They were bickering over something they’ve both long forgotten about by now; faces flushed, pupils blown wide, breath heaving from their chests. There was only the briefest of hesitations before their mouths collided, a harsh mesh of lips, teeth and tongue; bodies flooded with adrenaline and lust. Nick crowded Louis up against the wall and had ground his cock against Louis’ thigh until Louis was clawing at Nick’s clothed shoulder. Ten minutes later Louis’s face was pressed against the wall, his trousers around his knees, arse pushed out. Nick fucked Louis with furious abandon. There was nothing nice about it other than the feeling of release when they both came.

Harry was barely out of the room before Nick had Louis pushed over the arm of the couch the next time.

Something about Nick always pushed Louis too far, his flippant arrogance and smart mouth pushing at Louis until Louis exploded. They argue over things that don’t matter; The X-Factor contestants, Louis’ hair, Nick’s feet being on the coffee table, what pizza to get, and the like, much to the endless amusement of their few mutual friends and Harry’s exasperation.

“I really fucking hate you,” Nick whispered, pushing hard into Louis’ body.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Louis snapped back, his sharp teeth biting into sharp angle of Nick’s jaw.

They fuck in bathrooms, in upstairs hallways, over the little island thing in Harry’s kitchen and abandoned rooms wherever they’re thrown together. Harry catches them once, Aimee twice. They insist there’s nothing to it; hissing acrimonious words while using each other’s bodies.

There are others, of course there are. Casual, dirty one night stands and part-time lovers who coo sickeningly sweet words but they always crash, head on, into each other. They convince themselves that every time is the last time and it is. Until they’re left alone. Then it’s ten minutes, max, and their bodies are covered in sweat and spunk and bite marks.

“I hate you,” Nick grunts, but there’s no bite to his words as he pulls out with seemingly little regard for Louis’ comfort.

“I hate this,” Louis whispers in to the crook of his elbow before pulling his trousers up.


End file.
